


Feelings are for Pussies and the Aesthetically Challenged

by quellthefire



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quentin is way too into fandom, Sweet Ending, kiss, pining Eliot is adorable, pre-queliot, queliot, snarky bitches are my favorite to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quellthefire/pseuds/quellthefire
Summary: “Bambi. We talked about this. I’m done chasing straight boys looking for a gay hookup that they’ll spend the next 50 years denying ever happened. Been there, done that, the cock was not worth it.”———————————————Margo is sick of Eliot pining after Q and tells him to suck it up and do something about it, lovable snark ensues





	1. Pining is a Four-letter Word

“Jesus Christ, El, just tell the boy how you feel.”

Margo was lounging on the patio behind the cottage, shades on, staring up at the sky with a dirty martini in her hand. “You spend more hours pining after him than I spend on my hair. And that’s saying something.”

When Eliot didn’t respond she raised her sunglasses to look at him in the chair next to her. “Seriously, it’s gonna make me sick. I don’t like this puppy dog version of you. I need my queen bitch back.” 

Eliot sighed and took a sip of his own martini, staring pointedly at a tree in the distance. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally responded in a prim, utterly not-Eliot tone. 

“Quentin, Q, The Coldwater boy. Jesus, I’m getting bored of being the third wheel. At first it was fun because I thought he might be down for a threesome, but honestly, El. This is just exhausting. Either you go talk to him or I will.” 

Eliot gasped and sat up abruptly in his chaise lounge. “Bambi. We talked about this. I’m done chasing straight boys looking for a gay hookup that they’ll spend the next 50 years denying ever happened. Been there, done that, the cock was not worth it.” 

Margo snorted and raised her left eyebrow. “Not even that redhead… Ezra was his name, right? You wouldn’t stop talking about him for weeks.” 

“Not even Ezra, Bambi. His girlfriend came back from Cabo and suddenly he was too straight to take a second glance at me.”

Eliot turned on his side to face Margo finally, careful not to spill his drink. 

“Besides, aren’t one sided pinings the kind of tragedy that makes us magicians? Magic comes from pain, blah, blah, blah. This’ll make me stronger, Bambi. Maybe I’ll finally stop being such an utter disappointment to Daddy Fogg?” 

Not even Margo could resist laughing when Eliot used their private nickname for Dean Fogg. 

“He does have the looks and enough crushing judgement on your lack of accomplishments to be a dad,” Margo admitted. 

They clinked glasses and downed the rest of the booze. 

“Besides,” Eliot continued as he got up to refill their drinks, “Even if Q were hypothetically to be taking the scenic route in Queersville, can you imagine me trying to seduce him? He’d probably combust from the embarrassment of being noticed. I can only imagine how he’d react to me sucking his cock.” 

“That’s why you have to take it slow. He’s a little deer just learning how to walk. And you can help him learn to walk. With sex,” Margo stated proudly. 

Eliot’s eyes crinkled as he interjected, “Wait, I’m confused, am I fucking a baby deer in this metaphor?” 

She sighed with a glare aimed straight at him and slowly told him, “What I’m trying to say is that you need to dial back the Eliot Waugh charm and just be honest with him about how you feel.”

“Ew,” Eliot said, scrunching his nose in distaste. 

Margo extracted herself from the patio chair and stood above him, blocking out his view of the sun beating down on them. “I know, feelings are for pussies and the aesthetically challenged, but you know I’m right. Quentin is different. You’re different around him. And I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity to actually be happy for once at this school full of Hogwarts rejects. And I swear to god if you ever tell anyone I’m not actually a stone-hearted bitch I will cut your hair off in your sleep,” she said with a sickeningly sweet smile as she planted a kiss on his curly head. 

“I would expect nothing less from my Bambi.”


	2. Wet Dreams and Clockwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine, I’ll go after him.” Eliot said through gritted teeth. “But only because I want to make sure he didn’t drown himself in Woof Fountain. Q is a bit dramatic when it comes to avoidance.”
> 
> ——————————————-
> 
> The gang is trying to make a plan for how to fight the Beast, and Penny can’t stand Quentin’s nerd ramblings anymore. Eliot finally decides to go talk to Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to develop this into something more! You all were super helpful in giving me ideas for where to take the story. I’m placing this as before Quentin and Alice get togther, when they’re still trying to figure out what the fuck the Beast is/wants.

“So, so… I really think that if you contextualize “The Flying Forest” within the framework of when it was written it really serves as, like, a metaphor for what Christopher Plover experienced as a young man during World War 1, you know? The oppressiveness of the unknown ticking, it, it really functions as a parallel to—.”

“Oh my FUCKING god, will you please shut up for one moment, Coldwater?” Penny sat up from the living room floor and scowled at Quentin. 

Q, in return, shrunk back, letting his hair fall over his eyes, clearly uncomfortable with Penny’s outburst. “Sorry, I just thought it was useful—.”

Penny shut him up with another menacing stare and sank back onto to the floor of the Physical Kids’ cottage with a groan, hands covering his eyes. 

“What I think Quentin is trying to get at,” Alice primly interjected, “is that maybe taking a closer look at the books would be useful for understanding what we’re up against.” Quentin shot her a grateful look from behind the curtain of hair half-covering his face. 

Eliot sighed loudly and shifted in the loveseat he and Margo were draped over. The movement jostled her hand, which was currently painting her left toes with polish, and she playfully elbowed him in the side. 

He turned to Quentin and asked, “Wait, I’m confused, isn’t that the levitating trees one? Are the trees making the noise?”

Q’s face brightened with excitement and he rambled, “See that’s what you’d think, given the extensive canon based around the Watcherwoman, but actually—“ 

Penny punched the leg of the chair next to him. “Dude, seriously. It’s bad enough I get woken up every other night by your nerdy wet dreams about—.” 

Quentin’s face paled and then went a vivid crimson as he stood up suddenly. “Who wants coffee?! I know I sure do! How about I go make us some, yeah?” He shuffled out of the room, as Margo gave a meaningful look that Eliot pretended not to notice. 

After a few uncomfortable minutes it became clear that Quentin wasn’t returning with coffee and the group sluggishly dispersed. 

Penny was the first, he had only waited two minutes before grumbling about meeting up with Kady and disappearing suddenly from the living room. 

It still unnerved the Physical Kids how he could seemingly pop in and out of existence with little warning. 

Alice was next, she had spent ten minutes fiddling with her skirt hem, an anxious look on her face. At one point she even walked to the kitchen, poked her head through the door, and upon seeing an empty room, said she needed to get ahead on her reading for class. 

That left Eliot and Margo. By this point Margo had finished her other foot and was admiring her work, then touching up the tiny spot she had missed. Eliot’s drink was empty and he contemplated making another, but also felt bad for how uncomfortable Quentin had been. 

He knew Q didn’t handle confrontation well, especially when it came from Penny, but he seemed especially rattled today. Eliot exhaled loudly, and finally met Margo’s gaze. 

“Fine, I’ll go after him.” Eliot said through gritted teeth. “But only because I want to make sure he didn’t drown himself in Woof Fountain. Q is a bit dramatic when it comes to avoidance.”

“Sure, El,” Margo’s expression was shark-like and self-satisfied. “Go check on the little nerd. Give him some much needed comfort.” She winked and hopped gracefully off the loveseat, then headed up to her room. 

Eliot rolled his eyes as he snagged a bottle of Moët from the bar. If he was going to have to do this, at least he could be tipsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should have a lot more Queliot plot development. I just had so much fun writing Quentin being a depressed super nerd and Penny being Over It™


	3. Use Your Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot goes after a mortified Quentin. Drinking and feelings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter was so hard to get written out, but I think it turned out pretty sweet.

El swigged the champagne as he walked through campus. The sunlight was waning, and he knew that if he got caught drinking out in the open like this that Dean Fogg would be furious, but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. 

He was about to do the scariest thing he could imagine: tell someone how he really felt about them. That someone being Quentin. Those feelings being… well, if not love exactly, something close to it. 

And Eliot didn’t do love. He fucked. He teased. He made others delirious with desire. But love? Nah. Margo was the only one who even came close to that, and she would never use words like love to describe whatever they had. 

But here he was, getting increasingly buzzed as he wound his way through campus, knowing exactly where to find Q, because of course he did. 

He’d spent the past few months taking in every detail he could about the boy. From the moment he’d locked eyes on the awkward bumbling mess that was Quentin Makepeace Coldwater (and yes, Eliot could hardly believe that was his real middle name when Quentin had hesitantly divulged it one drunken night), he’d been secretly filing away every detail into a mental catalogue. 

And suddenly he was at Woof fountain, staring down at Quentin. ‘God, this stuff is hitting me harder than usual,’ he thought to himself. ‘Half a bottle in and I didn’t even realize where I was.’

Quentin didn’t seem to notice Eliot. He was sitting in a squatting position, hair fallen forward across his face, his hands gesticulating as he talked to himself. Classic Q weirdness. Eliot had grown to find his mannerisms adorable, though he’d only admit it jokingly. 

He was unsure of what to do, and decided to sit next to Q. Eliot straightened out his shirt and tie, he had standards to maintain, after all. He handed the half empty bottle to Quentin, who took it wordlessly and started gulping it down. 

“Hey, hey now,” Eliot’s voice came out calmer than he expected. There was something about seeing Q like this that made El want to comfort him, want to soothe him when it all felt like too much. 

The silence was oddly peaceful as they passed the bottle back and forth, both staring into the depths of the water in front of them. 

“I know I can be a lot,” Quentin finally said. 

“Q…” 

“No, I know that the whole Fillory thing is too much. That it’s annoying and childish and I should have learned to get over it years ago. That’s the last thing Julia and I really fought about. And maybe she was right? Even if Fillory is real, and even if we could somehow go there, the fact is the Beast isn’t gonna be the only thing that’s different than what I grew up expecting it to be. I had this idea about how the world works, and then Brakebills happened, and you happened, and Margo and Alice and everyone else, and it’s just a lot too. I don’t even know who I am anymore, and I just wanna feel something other than emptiness and panic and like I’m alone in this.”

“Hey,” Eliot leaned against his friend, stroking his hair reassuringly. “You’re not alone. You have me. And Margo and Alice and everyone else,” he smiled a bit as he repeated back Quentin’s wording. “And yeah, things aren’t the way you thought they’d be, but in some ways they’re better, right? You thought Fillory was just a made up place, and it turns out it’s real, and there’s a chance you might even get to visit it. And even if stuff in this new life at Brakebills sucks a hell of a lot more than you expected, there’s good stuff that you never expected too. After all, you met me.”

Eliot’s voice had gone soft and quiet, and he could feel Quentin settling into his touch, the comfortable ease of two people who needed each other in this moment. 

“Yeah, I did…” Quentin trailed off. 

They sat in silence for a while longer. When the bottle was finished Quentin sat it in front of them, and let Eliot continue stroking his hair, the touch making him feel warm and safe and whole.

Quentin cleared his throat and eventually started speaking again. “I, I… I have this habit of thinking things will fill the holes in my head. Like if I can just dive into the Fillory books, or like when I had my obsession with Julia, that it might somehow fix me. That’s stupid I realize. I mean, how is something like a book or another person supposed to make your brain not want to self destruct? And my brain is really single minded on that topic, pun intended. But those gaps don’t stay closed. It’s just a temporary stopper to the flood of horrible things I can’t control thinking.”

Eliot toed the empty bottle with his foot, and muttered, “Why do you think I drink so much? It temporarily fills the gaps in my head. It makes things hazier and easier to handle, and I don’t feel the stares as much when I’m too out of it to care.”

“But Eliot, you’re amazing. I wish I had the confidence you carry yourself with.”

Eliot just squeezed Quentin, whispering “Oh Q.” 

He lifted Quentin’s chin up to look at him, and they stared into each other’s eyes, Quentin’s were searching, trying to understand. Eliot’s firm in their resignation, knowing what he was about to do might be his biggest regret. 

“Please don’t hate me after this,” Eliot said breathlessly. 

And before Quentin could ask what he meant, El was kissing him, and it was soft and warm and the tiniest bit wet, and it made his breath catch in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Quentin leaned into the kiss, surprised that his brain was on autopilot, letting himself enjoy this rather than analyzing every single detail. He pushed away the niggling anxiety that Eliot was only doing this because he was drunk and lonely too, and he just let himself be kissed. 

Eliot was the first to break contact, gasping a bit for air as Q smiled up at him, his expression was one of bliss, but also confusion. 

“Oh fuck,” was all El could muster. 

The look on Quentin’s face shifted. Morphed into self consciousness and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, you’re probably used to kissing all sort of people and I know I’m not very good at it, it’s just that I like you so much and I didn’t know how to deal with that and clearly you don’t feel the same way and I’m sorry.” Quentin stared at the bottle as he said all this, rushing through the words like it hurt to say them. 

Eliot realized what was going on and started laughing, much to Quentin’s horror. 

“Uhm, yeah, I’m gonna go I guess—.” But before Quentin could finish his sentence Eliot was kissing him again, this time more urgent, there was more intention behind it. Q was confused and his brain felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t want it to stop. 

When they finally pulled away, Eliot gave him  
a smile he’d never seen before. It was soft, and vulnerable. And then Eliot started laughing gently. 

“I didn’t say that because I regretted kissing you,” Eliot started. “I said it because I was fucking terrified that I’d messed everything up. I was scared you’d bolt and never speak to me again.”

“Why would I—.”

“Trust me, I’ve had it happen plenty of times. And I didn’t even like them. Not like, not like you.”

“Oh,” was all Quentin’s brain would let him reply. 

“The whole, ‘I bond fast, time is an illusion’ thing? Yeah, that’s pretty much just been you and Margo for me. And I love Margo, but I don’t, uhm, feel for her like I do for you. God, can we just skip all this using our words stuff and go straight to me ravishing you?”

That made Quentin sputter out a laugh, and he needed a moment to catch his breath. “I think we’ll have to discuss all this at some point.”

“Shhh, shh, all in good time. Maybe after plenty more bottles of this stuff,” Eliot said as he pointed towards the empty Moët. 

Quentin just grinned and let Eliot play with his hair. 

They continued to sit in front of the fountain, drunk on champagne and the thrill of this new revelation. Eliot eventually broke the silence, “So those wet dreams huh?” 

Q hid his face in Eliot’s shoulder. A muffled “Yes, those were about you.”

“Well of course it was, have you seen me?” Eliot smirked as he spoke. 

“Yes, yes I have,” was all Q could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave me suggestions for how to get these two stubborn boys together! You all really inspired me to keep going and finish this.


End file.
